


summer dog days

by whalersandsailors



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Awkwardness and semi-flirting, BOYS AND THEIR DOGS, Gen, Pre-Canon, all thanks to a DOG, the beginning of a beautiful relationship, this is pure animal related fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 10:44:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18689908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalersandsailors/pseuds/whalersandsailors
Summary: Jopson decides that the ship's dog needs a bath, but Neptune has other plans.





	summer dog days

**Author's Note:**

> I just (clenches fist) love dogs. So, yeah, this is unapologetic fluff. Enjoy.

Jopson prides himself on his work. His one flaw, if he would admit it, is how aware he is of his own competence. He has always been quick-witted and detail-oriented, purposefully unobtrusive but present and useful at a second’s notice. Pleasure blazes in his chest whenever he completes a task and is rewarded with one of Crozier’s rare smiles. Even when his captain is under the heavy cloud of his melancholy, Jopson finds that he is one of the only men onboard capable of navigating through the fog that frequently looms about Crozier.

So, perhaps it is jealousy he feels when his stoutest contender for the ship’s best crewmate, or at the very least Crozier’s favorite, is a dog. A large, black, drooling, droopy-faced dog. Jopson refuses to label it as jealousy, but when he has to search the entire lower deck for Neptune in order to give the beast a proper bath, his feelings toward the dog are less than charitable. It has been a few months since _Terror_ left port, and while Jopson takes the time to brush the dog when he is able, Neptune’s fur has acquired of late a musty scent that is near unbearable though no one but Jopson is brave enough to say so to the captain.

Jopson casually mentioned it this morning while he was shaving the captain. Crozier lifted his eyebrows and grunted in response as Jopson was carefully sliding the blade along the skin above his lips. When Jopson rinsed the blade, Crozier huffed and told Jopson, “If you want to wrangle that mutt, you’re welcome to it. Just don’t harm yourself in the process.”

Jopson only smiled and continued to scrape away soap and stubble.

He is certainly no longer smiling as he searches behind every door, around each corner, and under every piece of furniture or table that a dog might consider a hiding spot.

Muttering under his breath a string of curses that would have made any of the other crew members shocked to hear coming from _Mr. Jopson_ , he ducks into the great cabin and is glad to find it empty. The captain is likely above deck, and for a moment, Jopson wonders if Neptune is on the main deck with Crozier. He has one final place to check: the captain’s personal cabin. If the dog is not there, Jopson will don his coat and head up on deck. The door to Crozier’s bunk is open, and after one look inside, Jopson leans against the doorframe. He crosses his arms with a soft, exasperated groan.

Neptune is curled on the captain’s bunk, and his brow twitches through the thick fur above his snout as his tail starts to slowly thump against the railing.

“There you are,” Jopson mutters with a shake of his head. “I should have known and looked here first.”

Neptune – the gall of him – looks like he is grinning as he opens his mouth to pant. When Jopson steps forward, the dog lifts his paws up and rolls onto his back, his head drooping to the side and his tongue lolling out.

Jopson sighs. “Alright, boy,” he says, giving Neptune’s a belly a few peremptory pats. “I know you don’t want to do this, but I may not have the chance again. Come.”

He gently grasps some of the loose skin around the scruff of Neptune’s neck and gives it a pull. Rotating his rib cage, Neptune pulls away and sinks his weight deeper into the bunk. Jopson purses his lips and tries to slide his arm under the dog’s girth. Neptune releases a low whine.

Jopson frowns and gives the dog a look.

“Oh please,” he chides, humor twisting his lips into a smile. He grunts with exertion as he manages to lift the dog enough to pull him half off the bunk. “Luke tried that as well, back home. But I am immune to crying, from human or dog.”

Undeterred, Neptune whines again and wrenches the lower half of his body from Jopson’s arms and clumsily tumbles off the side of the bunk, knocking into Jopson’s thighs at the same time. The two of them land on the floor with a loud thud, Neptune wriggling in Jopson’s lap as he attempts to right himself.

Jopson sighs and leans his head back against the small chair of Crozier’s writing desk.

“This would be _immensely_ easier if you cooperated, Neptune,” he gripes, unable to keep himself from rubbing the dog’s warm side.

Neptune’s brown eyes sparkle at him, as though the dog was in on a secret humor, a joke known only to himself. He releases a puff of air from his nostrils, and his tail thumps happily against Jopson’s calf as the dog presses his nose into Jopson’s chest, sniffing, before nudging his muzzle against Jopson’s chin and licking the man’s face.

“Neptune, no, _stop,”_ Jopson half-heartedly protests, unable to keep himself from grinning and giggling as the dog’s sloppy tongue smears drool against his jaw.

Jopson holds a hand up and gently pushes the dog’s face away from his own. Jopson stills his movement when he notices the near silent footfalls of someone entering the great cabin. Biting back a curse, Jopson tries to push Neptune off his lap so that he may stand, but dog and steward are still a tangled mess on the floor when Lieutenant Little looks hesitantly into the captain’s berth.

There is a pause, only a second, but long enough for Jopson’s face to blotch and his throat to seize with embarrassment. The lieutenant gapes, his lips parting before he snaps his mouth shut and dips his head. Neptune breaks the awkwardness by clamoring to his feet and trotting to the lieutenant’s side – clearly another favorite of the dog’s.

Jopson immediately stands, brushing dust and dog hair from the front of his trousers. He feels the need to explain himself, even though he’s done nothing wrong. He is aware of how ungainly a sight he must be; strands of his hair fallen over his eyes, the bottom half of his face wet from the dog’s spit, he himself dressed down to his waistcoat, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The lieutenant, on the other hand, is as composed as always, dressed neatly in his navy coat with its brass buttons gleaming, his hair carefully parted and brushed from his forehead.

Jopson feels his blush deepen as he pushes at his own hair and gestures fruitlessly at Neptune, unable to find the words to justify himself to the lieutenant. Little offers Neptune the palm of his hand which the dog sniffs.

“I heard a noise and thought to investigate,” Little explains; “It sounded as though something broke.”

Little’s dark eyes flick up to Jopson who nods and clasps his hands politely before him.

“No, sir,” he says, struggling to keep his own gaze up. “It was only Neptune and me.”

Much to Jopson’s surprise, the lieutenant takes to one knee and, once he is level with the dog, he rubs both of his hands against Neptune’s ears and down his flanks.

“Now, Neptune, were you giving Mr. Jopson trouble?” Little asks the dog with mock reproach.

Neptune wags his tail faster, a snort escaping him as his paws tap against the floor, his whole body leaning into the lieutenant’s touch with obvious pleasure. Feeling his blush deepen, Jopson quickly averts his gaze above the lieutenant’s head toward the windows of the great cabin, the soft light of day filtering through the murky glass and lighting the room with a cheerful, albeit colorless, glow.

Jopson hears Little clear his throat as he stands, his broad-shouldered silhouette blocking the light and forcing Jopson to focus his sight on the man once again. Little picks at his cuff, looking down at Neptune with one corner of his mouth pulling into a small, crooked smile.

“He likes the tea biscuits. Sometimes I’ll save one for him,” Little admits as he gives Neptune another scratch behind the ear. “I would suggest keeping one on hand, if you ever need to, ah, encourage him.”

Jopson’s lip part as he inhales silently but sharply, his mind still reeling at this bizarre tableau that he and the lieutenant must make, before he is able to reply softly, “I’ll…keep that in mind, sir. Thank you.”

Little lifts his eyes, and something in their dark depths strikes Jopson. The smile is still tugging at Little’s lips, giving the otherwise taciturn lieutenant a youthful air, and a glimmer passes over the onyx of Little’s eyes, stars splashed across a pitch night sky. Jopson feels something stir in his stomach – a flutter and lack of air for which he does not have the proper name. The smile disappears from Little’s lips the longer the two of them stand, only a few meters apart. Jopson begins to silently panic that some sort of protocol for their ranks or class has been broken in the last few minutes. Though Jopson cannot be sure which of them broke such a rule first.

With a shallow incline of his head and a brief smile directed at Neptune, Little says, “I’ll leave you to your work, Mr. Jopson.”

“Of course, sir.”

Little unconsciously straightens the hem of his jacket before he nods again and leaves the great cabin. Once his footsteps recede into the noise of the rest of the ship, Jopson releases a deep breath that he had been holding. He glares tiredly at Neptune who is still sitting on the threshold of the doorway and has craned his head back onto his shoulder to stare up at Jopson while his long, pink tongue hangs from the side of his mouth. Neptune’s dark eyes glimmer up at him, much too similar to a pair that had lingered unsettlingly long on Jopson mere minutes ago.

“You did all that on purpose, didn’t you?” Jopson complains softly to the dog whose tail lazily wags in response. “Well, don’t think you’re getting out of that bath.”

The dog’s ears flatten against his head, and he whines again. Jopson shakes his head, fondness making him chuckle. Before he can reach for Neptune’s scruff, the dog is bolting out of the great cabin. Jopson skips forward, trying to grab Neptune, but the dog disappears down the narrow hall into the rest of the deck. Thankfully, there is no one present to see how Jopson groans and sags against the doorframe of the great cabin.

He runs a hand down his face while he thinks on Lieutenant Little’s advice—and most certainly _not_ his smile nor his eyes. With a set to his jaw and a swipe at his hair, Jopson starts walking to the galley. He’ll need a decent excuse for Mr. Diggle.


End file.
